


Mission: Unexpected

by Mistress_Whimsy



Series: The Book of the Fallen [2]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Anal, Angst (just a bit), Beginnings of a plot, Bottom!Dean (while still being in control), Cas on a mission, Humor, M/M, Masturbation, Oral, Original Character(s), Romance, Slash, Smut, Tie Kink, piercing kink
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-22
Updated: 2013-09-16
Packaged: 2017-12-24 06:49:42
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 19,014
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/936687
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mistress_Whimsy/pseuds/Mistress_Whimsy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sequel to The Unexpected Everything. Castiel is on a mission to blow Dean's mind without the use of his angel mojo.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This story exploded on me, and this sequel has hints of the future plot, but mostly it's just about Cas and his mission. ^_^

Despite his shocking ineptitude when it came to most things human, Castiel was not unintelligent, nor was he completely naive. It had taken him some time, and a good deal of effort and embarrassment – he didn't even want to _think_ about the sixteen year old girl who'd followed him around the bookstore as he attempted to study the subject of romance – but he'd finally been able to learn the basics of human courtship rituals. He'd waited for the right moment, for Dean to want him there for no reason other than his presence, and the night had gone more beautifully than he'd dared to hope.

Now, however, there was another hurdle to clear. In his effort to learn the acceptable behavior during a date, and then procuring said date without alerting Dean to the fact, he had completely neglected the issue of sex. Well, in a manner of speaking. He had indeed wanted to approach Dean about the matter, as it had been bothering him since he discovered he had intentionally destroyed his chances with Chastity, but he hadn't thought it through. It hadn't occurred to him that Dean might actually _want_ to have sex with him. He'd hoped, certainly, but he'd never dared think of it as an inevitable fact. When his hopes had actually transpired, Castiel had used his intimate knowledge of Dean's body to his advantage, and he'd let a little of his 'mojo', as Dean liked to call it, into Dean's soul. If Dean's reactions had been any indication, Castiel hadn't performed poorly. He should be pleased with himself, but he was far from it.

Sex, Castiel thought as he once again attempted to click and enter the 'internet', was something humans excelled at. They learned to make each other feel good, or even themselves, without any supernatural assistance. There was no reason he couldn't learn, no reason he couldn't hone the skill to an art form and leave Dean utterly at his mercy with nothing more than his touches and his knowledge.

Single clicks to the icon had yet to produce results, so Castiel tried double clicking, and sighed with relief when the search page appeared on the screen. He really didn't want to have to ask the library attendant how to open the internet.

For several moments Castiel sat perfectly still, his fingers hovering above the keyboard as he tried to think of the most appropriate search. Finally, he simply typed, “sex” into the search engine and pressed enter.

Immediately, a strange picture with a stop sign appeared on the screen, stating that the search he had entered was blocked. It occurred to him that children had access to these computers, and that this might be some form of protection to keep them from viewing content they were not ready to see. That, or it was designed to frustrate falling angels on a mission, but he highly doubted it was the latter.

As Castiel flew from the library a chuckle wrapped around his mind, waiting to be born when he landed on the physical plane; his last thought had been such a _Dean_ thing to think. The hunter had invaded Castiel's being in every manner possible, maybe even in some that weren't. Angels were warriors, yes, but they were also lovers, and when an angel fell _in_ love, it was in a way few humans experienced. Dean had experienced it, in a manner of sorts – the love he felt for Sam was like nothing Castiel had seen in his entire existence. It was what had made his soul continue to shine, even in the Pit. It was the rare deal made in love, and it was the rarer soul that kept its humanity even in the midst of torture both inflicted and felt.

The chuckle manifested instead as a sigh as Castiel landed in a seemingly random city in New Jersey. Castiel could spend the rest of eternity explaining to Dean that what he did in the Pit was survival, that he shouldn't feel as torn apart inside over it as he did, but Dean would never listen.

It turned out the location wasn't as random as he'd originally presumed; Dean and Sam were nearby, one town over, likely working a job. It was really all they did. Castiel would have to sit them down at some point and explain to them that it was _okay_ to have a life outside of hunting. And this was coming from _him_.

People were beginning to stare at him oddly as they passed him, so Castiel started walking, contemplating his next move. He supposed there were books on the subject – it would also be possible for him to procure a computer that was unprotected – but now that he thought about it, perhaps it would be better to go straight to the source.

Castiel winced.

That meant he had to deal directly with people.

It wasn't that Castiel didn't like humanity. In fact, he liked them, even loved them, far more than most of his siblings. The problem was that he still had a very poor handle on everyday human interaction, and while Dean and Sam found it – for the most part – highly amusing, they knew what he was and why he acted the way he did. Most people he tried to interact with expected him to behave very differently, and seemed confused by his...well, confusion. Still, the angel was nothing if not persistent, so he continued walking until he came across a drinking establishment.

Once inside, Castiel sat down on a stool at the bar and tried to recall exactly what kind of beer Dean drank, just so he would have something to tell the bartender coming towards him. In the end he realized Dean didn't drink a particular kind, so he asked the woman now staring at him expectantly what was good. She was older, with a stern, wide face and graying hair, and she reminded him a little of Ellen. The thought made a pang of sorrow ring painfully in his chest; he'd liked her a good deal.

“Depends on what you like. You into light beer or dark beer?”

“I don't know,” Castiel replied helplessly.

To his surprise, the bartender chuckled. “Tell you what, hun, I'll bring you one of each, and you pick which one you like best and just pay for that one, okay?”

Castiel nodded gratefully and tried to smile. Dean was always telling him his smile was too small, but he must have done it correctly because the woman smiled back before stepping away to pull two beers from a cooler. She popped the caps and set them down in front of him, watching with an oddly intent gaze as Castiel tried first the light, then the dark.

“I prefer the dark,” Castiel said after a moment of contemplation. It had, he thought, more flavor than the light.

“Alright-y then.” The bartender flashed him a genuine smile and took the other beer, knocking half the contents back in one go. Yes, he thought with another, unbidden smile, she definitely reminded him of Ellen.

“Forgive me if this is too personal, hun, but you look like you're looking for something.” The woman – Castiel could no longer resist, he scanned her mind and discovered her name was Jenny, she was single, and he reminded her of a young man she had coveted as a teen – leaned her hip against the bar, meeting his gaze with ice blue eyes that offered an outlet while still being willing to drop the whole subject and walk away.

“I am,” Castiel replied. “But I am uncertain of how my request will be received.”

Jenny chuckled and knocked back the rest of the beer. Castiel noted with interest that it seemed to take a very specific type of woman to chuckle, and he suspected it had something to do with a certain kind of toughness that seemed to reside in female hunters and women who lived among rough company. “Go ahead, lay it on me.”

Castiel took a long drink of his beer, letting the words order themselves into a manner he truly hoped wouldn't confuse Jenny. “I've been...pursuing someone, and I recently succeeded in gaining their affections, but I am...inexperienced in the area of sex.”

Jenny paused, eying him with a mixture of suspicion and curiosity. “You lookin' to have someone teach you? You know, hands on?”

“No!” Castiel surprised himself with the vehemence behind the word. He didn't want anyone else to touch him. Not ever. And he meant that literally: when Dean was finally resting in Heaven, Castiel would simply follow him there, and if his siblings thought they could stop him, they were vastly mistaken. “No, I simply thought that perhaps someone would be willing to discuss it with me.”

The suspicion faded from Jenny's eyes, and she leaned forward, resting an elbow now against the top of the bar. “That's kinda sweet. Seems like more often than not guys are more concerned about their own pleasure than their partner's. What kind of girl is she?”

Castiel found it genuinely baffling that people seemed to assume that other people were automatically with the opposite sex, especially in this century. “He, actually.”

“Oh, sorry.” The information didn't seem to phase her at all. “Well, that's a whole different arena. See, if you were with a girl, I'd tell ya to talk to another girl, but if it's a guy, well...I'd say you're already equipped to figure out what might make him tick.”

Tick? Why in the world would he want to make Dean tick? Wasn't that function reserved for a clock? Castiel only just bit back the question. Dean would understand, Dean would explain it to him. “How exactly am I...equipped?”

Jenny chuckled. “You both got dicks, don't ya? Just...fool around with yourself, see what makes you feel good, then try it on him. Make sure he knows it's okay to tell you if he doesn't like something.” She shrugged, then straightened as a few new customers came inside. “Beer's on the house, hun.” She winked at him, then threw over her shoulder as she walked away, “Have fun!”

...*...

Castiel left the bar feeling even less certain than when he'd walked in. Fool around with himself. In context, Castiel could only assume she meant masturbation, and that was something Castiel had only briefly considered before. It had been a long wait for Dean, and there had been moments when Castiel was certain he could not contain his desire, but he'd felt that he would somehow cheapen the potential first time that Dean touched him by touching himself. Now, however, he no longer had that problem. In fact, the only problem he was currently faced with was where he might perform this activity in private.

Speaking of context...Castiel smiled to himself. Tick. Of course. _A clock metaphor for arousal._ The angel felt ridiculously pleased with himself for deducing that on his own, and thought perhaps he was finally beginning to get a handle on human subtlety.

The angel launched himself into flight, reveling in the sensation. He was all too certain that a time would come when he was no longer able to enjoy it. He flew without direction, and when he couldn't think of a particular place he wanted to go he began to search Dean's memories. The majority of the hunter's history was kept in a special place in his mind, missing only a few bits and pieces that Dean had been unwilling to give him. Castiel felt occasionally guilty for not telling Dean that he had the memories, but he hadn't realized at first – and later, when Dean showed such hostility towards him, been unwilling to tell him – that Dean didn't remember their flight from Hell. Perhaps because Castiel himself did, with almost frightening clarity. That, he thought, was where this had really begun.

When Castiel had accepted the mission to save the Righteous Man, he had still been so much Heaven's little soldier – obedient to a fault, and he hadn't given a second thought to what the mission might do to _him._ He hadn't thought of the fire licking at his wings, or the screams of so many damned souls crying out for salvation. He hadn't thought that he might once stop and stare around him in horror, wondering why God would allow such an atrocity to exist, because surely there must be a way to save them. _The_ _first doubt_. Castiel knew that Dean thought he was the cause of Castiel's doubt, and while Dean had definitely had a hand in it, Castiel himself had, in the end, been the cause of his own fall.

Castiel landed without paying attention to exactly where. He remembered finding Dean, forty years later – far too late, but hell was vast and they'd hidden Dean deep within the darkest corner. He remembered the shock rolling through him when he saw a purely human soul shining with all its glory, surrounded by the oldest and the worst as they attempted with every shred of evil within them to corrupt it. Dean's soul had been wounded, yes, so deeply he still carried the scars, but it had never allowed so much as a wisp of demonic essence into itself. That, Castiel thought, was why Dean had fought so hard against the angel as he'd gripped him and tucked him in against his grace, trying to shield him from Hell, from the torture he'd endured for too long. Because the humanity in him had been so certain it didn't deserve to be rescued. That was why Dean had screamed and raged and finally pleaded with the angel to save the others, anyone but him, and Castiel nearly had. He'd nearly taken as many souls as he could carry without losing Dean, until he'd realized there was no way for him to take even one extra soul without releasing his precious charge.

Castiel closed his eyes. He could remember the smell – or rather the impression of a smell, forced into a being that wasn't meant to experience such things – acrid and rotting, and he remembered the burn into every part of his grace, but what he remembered most clearly was Dean's soul realizing that Castiel could do nothing to save the others. It had settled deeply into the grace shielding it, burrowing so far into Castiel that it should have felt invasive rather than welcome, and sighed forgiveness directly into Castiel's being.

Now that Castiel thought about it, he was almost certain that was the moment he'd begun to love Dean with everything he was. Thinking further, he realized his later threats to throw Dean back into the Pit had been a very human defense mechanism against such feelings. When Uriel had suggested it, Castiel had come so close to smiting his sibling for even _thinking_ to hurt Dean that he'd been forced to start coming to terms with how he felt for the human.

It was somewhat shocking he hadn't accepted it sooner, but the journey from Hell had been different, somehow. Soul and grace had leaned against each other in an attempt to survive long enough to escape, and in the ten years it took Castiel to find a way out, he and Dean had shared most of their lives with each other. The soul of Dean was far less guarded than the man himself, and it had freely shown him all his favorite memories of Sammy, the rare good times with their father, his best hunts, his favorite music, his first gun, his first time with a woman, locations that held a special place in his memory. In return, Castiel had shared great moments in history that he'd witnessed from above, loves that had made him secretly sick with envy, and snippets of Heaven that suddenly seemed bland in comparison to the warmth in Dean's memories. Sharing had been comforting for both human and angel, and at the time Castiel had refused to think beyond that comfort.

It was strange, though, that Dean could not remember their time together when he remembered the rest of Hell so completely. Strange that he couldn't remember the strength they'd taken from each other, or the time in year nine when Dean's soul had begun to belt out the words to Highway To Hell, only he'd changed several of the lyrics – mainly 'to' had become 'from,' and he'd reworded an entire verse to include the angel – and Castiel had tried his best to sing along with him, tripping over the strange words and making Dean laugh in the process.

Stranger still, Dean could no longer hear his true voice or see his true form.

Definitely troubling, Castiel thought, but it was an issue he would tackle later. One hurdle at a time.

Opening his eyes, Castiel found himself standing in a meadow, the surrounding area thick with trees. The sun was setting, the day dimming into the black of night, and in the grass little, flickering lights had begun to wink in and out. The angel smiled; he knew this place. It was one Dean held in his memory as a particular favorite, a forest in Maryland where they'd hunted and killed a Wendigo. Dean had been sixteen, and after he and his Father had killed the creature, Dean had taken Sam to this exact spot. The brothers had sat under a tree not far from where Castiel stood, Sammy tucked in safe and warm against Dean's side as they watched the fireflies slowly rise from the grass to begin their mating dance.

Castiel stood very still, watching as the world darkened and the fireflies appeared from the grass, replacing the sun with their twinkling shine. It occurred to him that there was not one single human within a hundred miles of this place, and no predators would dare bother him. His thoughts slipped willingly from his time in Hell to the reason he had originally come here. With his gaze still on the light of the fireflies, distant and glazed as though in a trance, Castiel slowly shrugged his shoulders back, letting his coat slither to the ground. The black suit jacket followed, as did his shirt and tie, and the angel stood there a long moment, watching the firefly light dance across his bared chest. It felt strange to be undressing by himself, yet oddly exciting at the same time. He lifted a hand and trailed fingertips experimentally over his abs, dragging them upwards to brush across his nipples, remembering when Dean had done this and how electrifying it felt. Was Dean sensitive there, too? He made a mental note to find out as he laid down in the grass and reached for his fly.

Though Castiel had intended to leave his pants on, it suddenly seemed ridiculous to do so here in the midst of nature. He kicked off his shoes and removed both pants and boxers, leaving him naked in the glow of the fireflies. He was already half hard over the strange excitement of doing this to himself, and a light brush of fingers and the thought of Dean watching him, sitting under that same tree but with his eyes on the angel rather than the insects, had Castiel harder than diamonds in seconds. Would Dean like to watch? Castiel pictured him crawling forward, eyes locked on Castiel's hand as it wrapped around his already aching cock, green gaze hungry and feral in a way that gave him the air of a predator. The angel's whole body shuddered, his hips rocking up into the warm tunnel of his fist. He brought his other hand up and toyed with his nipples again, rubbing small circles at first, then taking one between thumb and forefinger and pinching when the pressure wasn't enough. The action caused a sweet pain that made Castiel gasp. He tossed back his head, mouth open around a quiet moan, hips stuttering without rhythm. In his mind Dean grinned and ran a hand up his leg, drawing teasing circles on the angel's inner thigh.

“Dean!” Castiel abandoned his chest and brought his hand down to cup his balls, moaning again as he tried rolling them between his fingers. It was Dean's fingers in his mind, massaging gently before probing further, and Castiel released a shout into the firefly-lit night as his own finger brushed across his entrance. Bolts of pleasure shivered up his spine, licking deep in his belly and tingling in the soles of his feet, making his toes curl into the soft earth as his hand worked faster. He imagined what it might be like to have Dean inside him, hard and hot and oh so close, and his orgasm punched through him with enough force to make him arc off the ground, Dean's name flying from his throat in a hoarse shout.

For several long moments Castiel simply lay still, chest heaving, eyes closed. His body felt oversensitive, loose and _wonderful_ , much like it had as he lay in Dean's arms, but he knew immediately that this had not helped. He'd been too caught up in his own fantasy, his own pleasure. He would have to try a new tactic.

Something brushed against his face, so soft and light he hardly noticed it. When he opened his eyes, they nearly crossed in an attempt to see the firefly standing on the tip of his nose. Castiel laughed softly, and the beetle's light shone bright and steady, as though answering the angel.

“Hello,” Castiel murmured, and it crossed his mind that it was a very human thing to do, talking to creatures incapable of understanding him.

The firefly quivered faintly, and then rose into the air again. Castiel watched it rejoin the others before redressing with a twitch of his fingers. He frowned down at his clothes; the more human he became, the more restricting they felt. Perhaps soon he would want to branch out into something less formal.

Maybe Dean would help him.

...*...

Castiel stayed in the meadow for the rest of the night, watching the fireflies and contemplating what he might attempt next. He finally decided that his problem would not be solved in a regular bar, but he knew there were also places for men who liked the company of other men. Perhaps there he would find something of use.

When the sun had risen and the fireflies gone, Castiel took flight before realizing he had absolutely no idea where to find such a place. Regular drinking establishments were startlingly easy to find, but he had a feeling a...what was the term?...gay? Yes, a gay bar, that would be more difficult to find.

Jenny had been helpful, or at least attempted to be, so Castiel flew to the bar and asked for her. The scruffy, skinny man behind the counter told him that Jenny wouldn't be there until tonight, could he get him anything?

“I need to know if there are any gay bars nearby,” Castiel said after a moment's pause. The term 'gay bar' felt strange on his tongue, and he wondered if it was because Dean was always telling him he spoke so properly.

The man shrugged. “Sorry dude, not my scene. I got a phone book you can check out if you want.”

“Thank you,” Castiel said by way of reply, so the man ducked under the counter and produced a thick book, tossing it down on the counter in front of the angel.

“Hey, look, I'm cool with it, I mean, I work for Jenny, and she's an all types person, so I kinda have to be. But...” the guy glanced around, and Castiel suddenly noticed another man a few stools away eying him with open hostility. “Yeah, some people aren't so okay with the gay thing. So just be careful what you say in here, alright?”

Castiel once again found himself scanning the mind of the person before him. Andrew was straight but his little sister was gay, and he honestly didn't care if Castiel was or not. He also honestly didn't want to see him hurt; his advice wasn't meant to be hostile or cruel, he was genuinely trying to keep Castiel out of trouble.

“Thank you,” Castiel said again, and Andrew tossed him a quick grin and a nod before walking away.

The phone book confused Castiel. There seemed to be different sections organized in different ways, and Castiel eventually gave up attempting to understand it. He went to leave, but before he could Andrew was suddenly there again, scooping up the phone book as he tucked a cell phone into his pocket.

“Okay, so my sis says there's this place on the other end of town called Pulse, small, kinda mild, 's gotta dance floor and all that, but nothing too freaky. You're supposed to actually be able to talk. Sound good?”

Considering talking was exactly what he needed to do, Castiel thought it sounded perfect. “Yes. Thank you.”

“Sure.” Andrew shrugged. When he straightened from putting the phone book away, Castiel was already gone.

...*...

By the time Castiel reached the bar and sat down, he was beginning to understand the human sensation of having your skin “crawl.”

When the angel had opened the door of Pulse, it had felt as though every pair of eyes in the place had turned to stare at him. By now most had gone back to dancing or speaking with each other, but quite a few were still watching him with a such an intense lust in their eyes that it made Castiel shiver. That wasn't why he was here. He didn't want their touches, he just needed to talk.

Besides, he thought as he glanced over the room, avoiding the gazes of the men still staring at him, the lust they felt was purely physical. Hollow desire, nothing like what he had with Dean.

That, of course, did not stop one of them from approaching him.

The man was, Castiel supposed, physically attractive. He was tall, almost as tall as Sam, with a neat little goatee and slicked back black hair. Brown eyes regarded Castiel with obvious interest, and the angel completely ignored him as he sat down in the hopes that he would lose that interest and leave.

“Hi there, gorgeous.”

What was it Dean would say? No such luck.

“Hello,” Castiel replied grudgingly. He didn't want to talk to this one. There was something unsettling in the way those brown eyes were raking over his body, as though he were a prize to be won and not a sentient being.

“What are you having?” The man waved a hand without actually looking at the bartender, a guy who looked like he was barely old enough to be serving alcohol.

“Nothing,” Castiel replied shortly. “I am simply looking for someone to speak with.”

“Yeah?” Castiel's unfriendly behavior appeared to be intriguing the man rather than unsettling him. He leaned back against the bar, smiling in a mildly predatory way as the bartender began to make his way towards them. It looked nothing like the grin Castiel had imagined on Dean. The hunter was wild by nature, while this man somehow perverted the expression, made it appear almost demonic. “Well, you can 'speak' with me all you like, sweetheart.”

Castiel's entire body stiffened as rage swirled hotly to life in his grace. He knew the term was meant as an endearment, but coming from this man it sounded condescending, disgusting, insulting. Did he think he could just smile and produce a few supposedly flattering words, and Castiel would just melt and do whatever he desired?

The angel was opening his mouth to say something very rude and Dean-like when a voice cracked through the air behind him.

“ _Josh!_ Back off!”

The man turned his head towards the source of the voice, his smile devolving into an ugly glare. “How about you back off, Derek? I spotted him first.”

“Dude, forget who spotted him first. That guy is totally about to kick your ass, and you're calling him 'sweetheart?' The hell is wrong with you?”

The man, Josh, twisted his head to look at Castiel again, and he let out a bark of incredulous laughter. “This guy? Come on, look at him, I could probably tie him in knots before he'd even react.”

Castiel was furious. The urge to smite this man was overwhelming, but he kept hearing Dean's voice in the back of his mind, telling him just because he had power didn't mean he was allowed to abuse it. So instead he stayed quiet, allowing the young man behind him to handle the situation.

“Look at his posture, Josh. That's not meekness, that's an I'm-trying-really-hard-not-to-kill-you pose. That's not the kind of guy you can smooze all over like a total schmuck, and that's _definitely_ not the kind of guy that'll let you run all over him. Does he look like he has self-esteem issues?”

Josh eyed Castiel one more time, then threw his hands in the air and stood. “You know what, whatever. This is so not worth it.”

He stormed off, leaving Castiel to let out an explosive breath of relief. The wood beneath his hands crumbled away, falling to the floor as nothing more than dust. He quickly fixed the damage before the young man sat down beside him.

The man, Derek, was just about Castiel's height, but smaller, more lithe. He had shaggy black hair that hung into huge gray eyes, and his round, boyish face had deep smile lines etched into the corners of his mouth and eyes. He was wearing odd, baggy pants with too many pockets, and a green t-shirt with an image that Castiel thought might be meant to depict a winking face. He was...cute, but nothing out of the ordinary in body. His soul, on the other hand, shone blindingly, and Castiel felt himself relax immediately.

“I'm Derek.” Derek held out his hand, and it took Castiel a second to remember he was supposed to shake it and respond with his own name. “No one would have blamed you if you'd punched Josh's lights out, he's a jerk. Thinks he's hot shit, and treats everyone like they're pieces of meat or trophies or something. Great self-restraint, though! And wow...good grip.” Derek tugged suddenly, flushing bright crimson as Castiel pulled his hand away. “So, I think I should go, 'cause seriously, you've gotta be the hottest thing on two legs I've seen in my entire life, and you don't look like you're looking, so I'm just gonna...” mid-sentence he stood and started to flee, but Castiel was reaching out and gripping his wrist to stop him before he could take a step. This one, he thought, would help him.

“You are correct in presuming that I'm not looking,” Castiel said as gently as he could, because he could sense Derek's interest, and it was nothing like Josh's. It was sweet, almost innocent. “But I do need help, and I think you might be willing to help me.”

“Help? Help with what?” Derek immediately sat down again, wrist still limp and willing in Castiel's grip.

Releasing his wrist, Castiel sat back and told Derek the same thing he'd told Jenny...and then he went further. He told Derek Dean's name, and that he was the most important thing in Castiel's existence, and that he was seeking this information not because of Dean's challenge or to prove anything, but because he truly just wanted Dean to feel so good that he'd remember why life was worth living. 

By the time Castiel was finished Derek's eyes were glassy, and he was holding one hand over his heart like he thought it might leap out and run away if he let it. “That is the sweetest thing I have ever heard. I mean seriously, ever. I am totally going to help you. But let's get out of here, you're being cruised in serious fashion. Come on, I've got a computer, we can try some videos or something, see if they help.”

Though he knew the name this time, Castiel couldn't resist scanning Derek. He found a young man who was a romantic at heart, who knew of the supernatural world – he'd even been on a few hunts – because of his best friend, a hunter called Garth. He knew Castiel was something more than human, but his instincts also told him that he could trust the angel. He was drawn to the power in Castiel; his tough attitude was a shield for the fact that he just wanted someone who could watch his back.

"Okay, really, we gotta go, dude, another sleazeball is coming this way.” Derek was standing, tugging on Castiel's coat, and the angel realized he was staring up at Derek, unmoving.

"Think of home,” the angel said, and when Derek frowned but did as requested, Castiel flew them there, landing in the middle of a small, messy living room covered in books, scattered notepads and DVDs.

“Whoa!” Derek stumbled back, gripping Castiel's coat tighter to keep from falling. “Holy crap, I knew you weren't human. Shit. But...you're not evil, either. I can tell.”

“I am an angel.” Castiel almost tripped over the words, because he no longer wanted to declare himself an “Angel of the Lord.” The longer he went without finding God, the less faith he had in the Father he'd never laid eyes on. “Or more accurately, a falling angel.”

“Dude...seriously?” Derek stared at him, wide eyed, just as willing to believe as Sam had been. Castiel showed him his wings (or, rather, the shadow that human eyes could perceive) anyway, just to give him that added certainty.“Oh wow, that's just...wow. And you're smexing up a human, that's...funny. Is he the reason you're falling?” When Castiel nodded Derek made the strangest sound, like he'd begun to squeal and attempted to turn it into something just a little more masculine. “Right, so at some point I jumped into a really epic love story.” He clapped his hands suddenly and grinned, an expression that was almost mischievous. “And my role in this totally oddball movie; show the angel some porn. Oh _god_ I did not just say that out loud. Come on.”

And that was how Castiel found himself sitting on a small, wheeled chair, watching as Derek, also in a chair of the same design, clicked on a video he thought might be promising.

“This won't cut it completely, you know, just give you an idea. Maybe. If it doesn't totally suck.” Derek watched as a small, red bar made its way slowly across the bottom of the video. When it had reached the end he hit play, and lewd sounds immediately began to pour from the laptop speakers. Castiel watched with vague distaste; it was just like the men in the bar who wanted him for his body and nothing else. They were also, he noted, completely in it to please themselves, not each other. While he understood this was a common human practice, he couldn't begin to comprehend how it could be fulfilling. Even Dean, who had slept with more women than even Castiel cared to count, had been attentive and generous with every one of them. The difference, Castiel thought, was that Dean didn't _use_ women. He genuinely enjoyed them, and they enjoyed him just as much in return.

For several moments one man sucked off the other, moving so quickly and sharply that Castiel couldn't imagine it felt as great as the second man seemed to be making it out to. The sounds flying from his mouth felt fake and rehearsed, and it nearly made Castiel wince.

“You okay?” Derek leaned to the side, trying to see Castiel's face. “You look...constipated.”

“This video...” Castiel shuddered minutely. “It is...it was nothing like that. With Dean.”

“Oh, yeah. This is porn, no feelings involved. They are moving kinda fast though, huh? Well, it might get better, give it a minute.”

The first man pulled off and flipped the second one over, and then spat into his hand and smeared the fluid across his dick before shoving into the second man without preamble.

“Okay, that? That is totally not realistic. Or a good idea. Yeah...no...we gotta stop watching this video...” Derek hit the back button with enough enthusiasm to mean it, and then turned to face Castiel with an almost apologetic look. “Okay, so that was not a good one. See, this is the problem with porn. We need to find one of those instructional movies...except they usually actually, you know, cost. As in mula. As in, that which I do not have.”

Castiel sat very still, blue eyes locked on Derek's gray ones in a desperate attempt to understand. When comprehension thoroughly avoided him, Castiel asked carefully, “Is saliva considered an acceptable substitute for lubrication?”

“No, see, that's why it was a bad idea. I mean, it's okay I guess if the guy's a total slut bottom and is used to it and maybe likes it to burn a bit...okay quite a bit...but you said your guy's only done it once, right? And kudos to you for not screwing it up, I mean, virgins doing virgins is never a good idea, even if the other virgin is technically not, in the straight sense, you know? Anyway, no, spit is so not an acceptable substitute. If you want your guy to feel really good, use lube. Lots of it. But see, there's so much more to it than just the act, you know?”

Derek said “you know?” so often that Castiel was beginning to wonder if he _should_ know, or if it was some strange little catch-phrase, a personal quirk. “I...” Castiel let out a small sigh and ducked his head, feeling self-conscious and frustrated with himself. “I do not know. I wish to.”

“Holy...how can you be so adorable?” Derek stared at Castiel with a strange mixture of jealousy and fascination, neither of which Castiel fully understood. “Okay, tell me about...Dean?” He waited for Castiel to nod an affirmative. “Tell me about Dean. What's he like? What's he into?”

“I don't understand. What does this have to do with sexual pleasure?”

“Everything!” Derek practically yelled, as though that were the most obvious thing in the world. “Just roll with me on this.”

Castiel blinked, inwardly sighing because Derek was quite possibly even more confusing than Dean. “I do not see how rolling will assist you.”

“ _Oh my god!_ ” Derek threw his arms around Castiel's shoulders without warning, gripping him in an awkward, sideways hug. “Stop being so cute!”

Castiel had never been hugged before. It seemed strange that he'd been kissed, and he'd been inside Dean, and Dean had even held him afterward, but he'd never really been _hugged._ Cautiously, the angel put one arm around Derek's waist and hoped that sufficed as a form of reciprocation.

“Sorry.” Derek sat back suddenly, blushing furiously. “Dean, tell me about Dean.”

Though Castiel still didn't see the point of this, he trusted that Derek knew what he was doing. “Dean is a hunter,” he said slowly. “He is...strong, mentally and physically.”

“How about emotionally?”

The angel frowned. “I am uncertain. He is very hesitant to admit to his feelings, in fact the only person he openly shows affection to is his little brother.” He paused, thought back to the night that could still make him smile five days later. “I suppose he shows affection to me as well, in his own gruff manner.”

“So he's emotionally stunted, okay. But you've got him showing you love, that's great! You totally deserve it! What does he like?”

“Sam,” Castiel replied immediately, and when Derek looked confused Castiel clarified. “His brother. Myself. His car. Pie, he has a particular fondness for pie. Music classified as classic rock. Women.”

Derek blinked. “Women? Wait...your guy is straight? Or bi?”

Castiel paused, running the terms over in his mind and latching onto the one he understood, and also knew to be true. “Yes, he is straight. It seems I am...special somehow.”

“I'll say,” Derek breathed, and then he flushed and said hastily, “Okay, so you're the exception to his heterosexuality, great. So that means this isn't just him being a virgin, this is totally new territory for him. Okay. You said he's a hunter? As in, supernatural, right? Well, I bet that means he's a little bit of an adrenaline junky, probably likes the rush...what kind of car does he have?”

“A 1967 Impala,” Castiel replied without hesitation.

“Ooh, nice car! A classic, probably babies that thing, huh? Total gas hog, though. Okay, I think I got this guy. I mean, you're gonna have to improvise, you know him better than I do, but here's what I think you should do.”

Derek slid the wheeled chair closer, leaning forward with his elbows on his knees, staring into Castiel's eyes like he was about to share the secret of the universe. Castiel found himself staring easily back, relaxing in a way he often couldn't around Dean because his hunter was still somewhat uncomfortable with the connection. Except, it seemed, during sex.

“Guys with issues expressing and accepting emotion usually seem to crave it, especially the ones that act like nothing is a big deal. So here's what you do; you take your time with him, lots of exploring and kissing and maybe even a little talking, nothing too intense, just little things, like telling him how gorgeous you think he is or how much you like touching him, stuff like that. Watch him really close, you'll see it when you find a place he really likes. Sometimes it's weird places, like I have this totally sensitive spot behind my left knee, but not my right. When you get around to the actual fucking, go slow, take plenty of time prepping and remember the lube. Oh, and remember, the prostate is your friend. Especially if you want to tease him a little, just graze it every few thrusts but don't actually press against it. You can get him totally worked up like that. Half the trick is to get him so turned on that every time you touch him he feels it ten times more intensely than he would if you were just normally interacting.”

Derek stopped to draw in a breath, but he wasn't done yet. “There's other stuff you can do before, too, like you can give him a strip tease, or does he have any kinks you're aware of?”

“Kinks?” Castiel was almost certain Derek didn't mean that in the literal term, and he was proud of himself for catching it before he blurted out something else that sent Derek gushing about how 'adorable' he was.

“Yeah. You know, some people have a domination kink, or a submission kink, or some people might be really into this tie.” Derek reached out and lightly tugged said tie. “Speaking of which, what kind of bottom is he? I mean, did he ask you to fuck him, or did you ask to?”

“I asked,” Castiel replied slowly. “And he seemed quite taken with the idea. But he was not submissive. Dean is never submissive.”

“Ooh, so what kind of top were you, then?”

Castiel frowned as he attempted to view the event from a more clinical, outside view. It was exceptionally difficult. “I was...very eager to please him. I wanted more than anything for Dean to feel good.”

Derek was staring at him with glazed eyes, and he had to shake himself before replying. “Damn, this guy is so lucky, I hope he knows how lucky he is. Okay, so basically what happened was you topped, but Dean was pretty much running the show. That's actually fine, you can use that to your advantage. Let him keep that kind of control, and he'll probably be more open to you trying to sneak in under his emotional issues.”

Derek's hand was still curled loosely around his tie, and Castiel reached up and gently removed it. “Dean did seem fond of my tie,” Castiel said in reply to Derek's earlier question. “He pulled me where he wanted me to go with it several times.”

Derek shuddered. “Okay, that sounds hot. There's some other stuff you could do with it, too, like blindfold each other or tie each other up.”

Restrain Dean?! Castiel's alarm must have shown in his eyes, because Derek began to shake his head and speak even more quickly than usual. “No no, oh my god, no, shit, did I hit a nerve or something? It can be good, I mean really good, to tie someone up, or get tied up. It's not a dominance thing or a forced thing, it's all about trust. You know, you take away control and it's all about letting the other person know that you trust them completely. If you're not comfortable doing that to Dean, you might try offering to let Dean tie you up. I bet, with the way you've described him, he'd be thrilled with the idea, and I can almost promise you he'd trust you completely after it.”

“I thought being the one restrained meant being the one to show trust?”

Derek nodded. “It does, but in showing that kind of trust, in giving up that kind of control, it makes the other person trust you too. They know if you're wiling to go that far, they can too without worrying about you taking advantage of them.”

Castiel tried imagining it, tried wondering what it would be like to ask Dean to tie his hands, to see the flare of lust and awe in Dean's eyes as he accepted...and then was forced to cut the thought off before his reaction to the image could start tenting his pants.

“There's other stuff you could try, too, like touching him throughout the day but making him wait for it, or if he's open to it you could try dancing, 'cause that gets you all up and close and rubbing against each other, and if it's slow dancing it's a chance to get sorta intimate. And trust me, all this stuff helps with the sex department. The more connected you are and the more lead up there is, the more it's gonna blow both your minds. Am I giving you a total info overload here?”

Thanks to Dean and his constant shortening of words, Castiel was able to translate 'info' to 'information'. “No. Is there anything else I should know?”

“Hm...” Derek lifted one hand and flicked at his chin absently with his index finger, eyes staring down at nothing thoughtfully. “What did Dean act like? While you guys were doing it, I mean? I know you said he was tugging you around, but was it like he was trying to be dominant, or playful?”

“Playful,” Castiel answered immediately. “He pushed me twice, but that was also playful. He chuckled a good deal, and he seemed to want me to feel as good as I was making him feel. He was also very...gentle, at first. It was my first time, I was...afraid.”

“Yeah, it's always scary the first time,” Derek agreed with a nod.

“There was something else.” Castiel paused, unsure why he was even mentioning it, but so far Derek seemed to be finding links in places that Castiel wasn't fully understanding as of yet. “Dean does not normally appreciate it when I stare into his eyes. He is much more open to it now than he was in the beginning, but it seems to make him somewhat uncomfortable. It had the opposite effect while we were in bed. He seemed to...it seemed to greatly arouse him. I believe it may have even been the cause of his climax.”

“That makes sense. Since he denies himself that connection in front of people, you giving it to him full on like that, in a private place where he didn't feel threatened by it? Hell yeah, I bet that was what made him come. So okay, eye contact, remember eye contact. Now, there's just one more thing.” Derek stood up suddenly, making his way towards a small table by the front door. “When do you need to leave?”

“I still have time,” Castiel replied, though he was eager to get back to his hunter and attempt some of the tactics Derek had given him.

“Good.” Derek lifted a ring of keys from the table and wiggled them at Cas. “We're going shopping.”

...*...

Derek's car was a banged up '98 Blazer that coughed and sputtered as they drove to a Walmart a few miles from Derek's home. Castiel had seen one before; Dean called them “Wally World” and claimed demonic deals were responsible for the cheap prices.

“Why are we here?” Castiel asked as Derek dragged him by his coat sleeve into the store.

“Just one more tactic for you to use,” Derek said as he made a beeline for the clothing department. The store was packed full of people, and Castiel tried his best not to become distracted by so many different lives and personalities filing past him. “Do you have anything else to wear, or do you wear that all the time?”

“I've never worn anything else,” Castiel answered. “There is no reason to, my powers keep the clothing clean.”

“So you never have to do laundry?” Derek twisted around long enough to give the angel an expression caught somewhere between a glare and jealousy. “Dude, you suck.”

Castiel frowned, then answered carefully, “Only Dean,” thinking that Derek was implying something.

“Only – oh! Oh god, okay, yeah, you're very literal, aren't you?” Derek laughed and tugged Castiel's coat again. “Come on, let's get you something new to wear.”

Derek tried to get Castiel to pick his own clothes at first, but apparently everything that Castiel pointed to was 'hideous', so Derek began doing it himself. He handed Castiel two pairs of jeans, one black and one blue, and then began to riffle through long sleeved, button down shirts, muttering to himself under his breath about colors and sleeve lengths.

“Blue's going to be a good color on you because of your eyes, but I bet we can find something else that'll make you stand out...green, green might be good, a dark shade...might make your eyes stand out even more, actually...” Castiel trailed behind Derek, holding the clothes that the young man shoved at him and staying silent, letting Derek carry the conversation alone because he couldn't even begin to understand the importance of color coordination, or the difference between form fitting and loose cuts.

Finally, Derek herded him towards the dressing room, and he made Castiel step out and let him look at him after every single outfit. The angel was tiring of this very quickly, but if it helped him with his mission then he would put up with it.

“Okay, two pairs of jeans, the black one and the dark blue one, and that light blue t-shirt and the green button down... _not_ the short sleeve! Yeah, okay. Just leave the rest of it.”

Castiel glanced back into the dressing room, towards the mountain of clothes lying on the floor. “It's acceptable to just leave them?”

“Yeah,” Derek said with a nod. “They'll get it. I don't think they like you putting them back yourself, messes up the order or something. Oh, you can get away with that green shirt with your slacks, too, if you want to keep up the more formal look. Those jeans really hug your ass and hips, though, and your guy might like the change up.”

 _Your guy._ Though Castiel wasn't sure why, the term was beginning to make him smile.

Derek paid for the clothing with a plastic card, even though Castiel had the distinct impression that Derek couldn't afford it. He scanned the young man's mind again and found that to be true, but when he pointed this out Derek waved a hand dismissively and said he'd find a way to pay for it later, so Castiel resolved to pay him back somehow. Dean would know where to get money, even if the methods weren't exactly honest.

Derek didn't want the angel to leave yet, and Castiel knew that should have been reason enough for him to leave right then. The young man was sweet, and he didn't need to be developing a crush that wouldn't lead anywhere. In the end he rode in the car back to Derek's place, and when Derek insisted Castiel changed into the green shirt, though he left the familiar slacks, black coat, and tie. He did leave his trench coat off, though, and Derek proceeded to inform him that he looked “hot.”

“You taking off, then?” Derek asked softly.

Castiel shifted uncertainly; he'd already located the Winchesters. They'd finished their hunt and were spending some time in yet another bar. Castiel could be there in the blink of an eye...but he was reluctant to just leave the young man who'd been so helpful.

“Would you like to accompany me?” Castiel found himself asking.

Derek's whole being lit like the horizon at dawn, and he nodded eagerly. “I'd love to!”

It wasn't the best idea, Castiel thought as the young man took his outstretched hand, but perhaps Dean would be able to help him find a person more suitable for Derek.

...*...


	2. Chapter 2

Castiel and his passenger appeared outside a bar called The Eight Ball. It was small, tucked into the corner of a busy street. A few people glanced in surprise at the two as they passed, but quickly dismissed the idea that they had appeared from no where. Humans, the angel had come to realize, would sooner deny than believe. 

Derek let out a derisive snort, and when Castiel glanced at him questioningly the young man gestured towards the bright, glaringly red sign that announced the drinking establishment's name. 

“It's a bad pun,” Derek tried to explain as they walked inside. “It's saying you never know what might happen in here, you know, like you never know what answer you're gonna get on a magic eight ball?”

Castiel, once again, had no idea, but his ability to keep his confusion to himself was improving, so he said nothing. 

The bar where Dean and Castiel had shared their date had been a calm, welcoming sort of place, whereas this bar had a completely different feel. The air was thick and smokey, the dark walls and low lighting only promoting a sense of claustrophobia. The majority of the people inside were men, almost all of whom wore dark clothing, and many of them had strange pictures inked into their skin. Tattoos, if Castiel remembered correctly. The angel's gaze swept over the place once, twice, three times before he finally decided he simply couldn't comprehend why anyone would _want_ to spend time in such an environment. 

“Oh hell,” Derek muttered suddenly, shrinking in on himself and tucking in close beside Castiel. “This is a biker bar, dude, I should so not be here.”

Once again Castiel found himself confused by a common human term, but he sensed Derek's nervousness, so instead of asking he merely touched the young man's arm and promised quietly, “I'll look out for you.”

Derek stared at him for a moment, not with confusion but with quiet, calculating calm, and then he smiled and straightened up. “You know, I believe you will. Your guy here?”

“Yes.” Castiel looked through the bar with both his human eyes and angel senses, touching the soul with the latter long before his eyes found the body that contained it. Dean was standing by one of the pool tables, acting drunk and playing against a burly, long haired man who was certain he was going to take the five hundred laid out along the side of the table. Brushing against the hunter's mind, Castiel discovered Dean was about to make a bet that he could win the game in two moves, adding another hundred to sweeten the deal, and Sam was supposed to swoop in and act concerned about his brother's apparently drunken state, solidifying the opponent's surety of winning. 

When Castiel stepped in beside Dean the hunter's eyes lit up, and a smile flickered across his lips. The angel had to force himself not to smile back, ridiculously pleased that Dean was so happy to see him. The hunter opened his mouth to say something, and his opponent was eying Castiel oddly, so the angel reached up and placed a hand in the small of Dean's back, cocking his head as he gazed into Dean's eyes with what he hoped was obvious concern.

“You are far too intoxicated to be attempting those shots,” Castiel said firmly, reaching out as though to take back Dean's half of the bet. “You should end this game now.”

“Hey! Who asked you to butt in?” The other man growled, gesturing threateningly towards Castiel with his pool stick. “Back off and let the guy take the shot!”

Inwardly, Castiel smirked; Dean had already won. His opponent fully believed now that Dean was too drunk to make the shots. 

“Yeah, Cas, what the hell?” Dean slurred, shoving pathetically at Castiel's chest, flashing a grin when the other man wasn't looking. Castiel smiled back, the one he knew was more in his eyes than on his lips, but it made Dean light up inside anyway, and that was more than enough for him. “I can beat this guy!”

“Sure you can,” the biker murmured, amusement thick in his voice as he bent to take his own shot. 

Castiel watched, aware of Derek alert and curious behind him, as Dean went to take his turn...and won in the next two shots, just as he'd promised. The biker stormed away, muttering about dumb luck as Dean picked up and counted the bills with open glee on his face.

“Cas, man, that was great!” Dean chuckled, slapping Castiel heartily on the shoulder. “You want some of this?” He held up the bills, and Castiel was about to say no when he remembered his promise to himself to pay back Derek.

“Just one,” he requested, and when Dean laid it in his open palm Castiel turned and handed it to Derek.

“What? Oh, no, it's okay, really...” Derek trailed away when Castiel slipped the bill into one of the many pockets on his odd pants. “Thanks.”

“Who's this?”

Castiel had his back to Dean, but he could _feel_ the sudden, hot spike of suspicion and jealousy. “This is Derek,” Castiel said as he turned to face Dean once again. “He has been teaching me how to please you without the use of my 'mojo'.” 

The angel thought this would ease his hunter's fears, but instead it seemed to enforce them. “Teaching you how?” Dean growled as he took a threatening step in Derek's direction, his hand clenching unconsciously around the money in his hand. 

Before Castiel could answer Derek was throwing his hands in the air and shaking his head so rapidly it was nearly a blur. “No, dude, oh my god you have nothing to worry about. Your Castiel here is so completely _yours_ that it's kind of crazy. I've just been giving him tips and stuff, you know? No touching, I promise, god, I'd never touch someone that devoted to another person, and seriously, I think he'd beat the crap out of anyone who tried to touch him who wasn't you.”

Castiel watched with relief as the jealousy drained from Dean's eyes, replaced with a glowing warmth that spread his lips in a wide grin. “Wow, Cas, you really took my challenge to heart.” His tone was meant to be playful, but Castiel could sense the relief and _fondness_ behind it, and for a moment he forgot there was anything else in the room, anything else in the _world_ outside of Dean and his gaze.

And then Derek was letting out a squeaky little gasp and shoving a fist in his mouth, and Castiel turned to face him with a frown of concern. “Are you alright?”

“Who...is... _that?_ ” Derek pointed across the bar, and both Dean and Castiel followed his gaze and his finger straight to Sam, who was leaning against the bar and watching the three of them with open curiosity. Sam winked when Castiel's eyes met his, tossing him a grin, and Castiel realized the younger hunter had purposely stayed away when he'd seen Castiel go to help Dean with his con. Interesting. Sam must know about them. He briefly considered telling Dean, but knew the brothers would tell each other eventually.

“That's Sam,” Castiel told Derek. “Dean's brother.”

“Is he straight too?” Derek asked breathlessly. “Please, please tell me he's not straight, oh god please.”

To Castiel's immense surprise, Dean shrugged. “You know, I have no idea. He seems to go for a type, not a look. You can go talk to him if you want.”

Derek disappeared so quickly that for a brief moment Castiel thought he'd actually flown. 

“Does he know?” Dean asked, stepping in closer to Castiel. A hand came to rest in the small of his lower back, and Castiel felt a warmth flood through him at how easily the hunter touched him.

“Yes, he has a friend who is a hunter. He is also aware of what I am.”

Dean nodded. “Okay.” The older hunter chuckled as Derek sat down at the bar beside Sam. “He must like tall, dark and nerdy.”

“I believe Derek is attuned to people's souls,” Castiel said thoughtfully. “Not consciously, necessarily, but he seems to know on instinct who he can trust. It may very well be Sam's soul that attracted him, not just his form.”

Suspicion flared in Dean's mind again. “That's not a witchy thing, is it?”

“No, Dean.” Castiel lifted a hand and laid just the fingers against his hunter's hip, immensely pleased when his touch was accepted just as easily as the one Dean had given him. “It's actually a common human trait, but most seem unable to use it, or are unwilling to acknowledge it. You use it frequently to predict your opponent's actions, or to judge when you can trust someone.”

“Wha...Cas, that's just intuition. And yeah, everybody has that, to some level or another.” Dean glanced at Derek, who was starting to get some very odd, hostile glances from the other men around the room. Castiel was reminded of the man at the bar where Jenny worked, and he shuddered minutely as a sense of unease washed over him. 

“Hey.” Dean's fingers curled into the coat suddenly. “You're wearing different clothes.”

“Just a different shirt,” Castiel clarified. “Derek seemed to think changing my clothing might have some sort of effect on you.”

Dean chuckled in a manner that Castiel thought sounded embarrassed. “I didn't even notice, man, sorry.”

Castiel smiled. “It's fine, Dean. In fact, that was a better reaction. It means you were happy to see me, and not just this body.”

The hunter said nothing, but Castiel saw just the barest hint of red creep into his ears.

“Back off!”

The sharp words were barked in a voice both Castiel and Dean instantly recognized as Sam. The younger hunter had stood from his stool and was standing protectively in front of Derek, who had also stood and was holding his beer bottle in a manner that suggested he fully intended to use it on the first person that came at him. Castiel saw a flash of surprise in Dean's gaze; his first impression of the small man had been weakness, when Castiel knew Derek was anything else. 

“I don't understand this hostility,” Castiel said quietly as Dean dropped his hand from the angel's back. “There was a man in a bar I visited yesterday who seemed to hold the same hostility towards me.”

“That's because they're backwards douchebags,” Dean explained rudely as they began to make their way towards Sam and Derek. “I may have been a total girl guy before you showed up, but I never had an issue with the whole gay thing. These guys think it threatens their sexuality or some shit. Hey!” the last was directed at one of the men now gathered around Sam and Derek, an older man with iron gray streaking his long beard. His brown eyes were small and fierce, and Castiel felt a desire to crush the two men before him that was so intense it physically upset the angel. 

“Cas? You okay?” Dean murmured.

“I'm alright,” Castiel assured him. He realized he had a hand over his stomach; his vessel was reacting to the emotion by becoming nauseous. 

The older man turned, his dangerous gaze narrowing to focus on Dean, who met his eyes with a cocky grin. “You got a problem, boy?”

Dean's smile turned predatory, and Castiel had a flash of his fantasy among the fireflies. He had to violently repress his body's reaction; apparently, actually seeing the look on Dean in person was even more stimulating than it was in his mind. “You don't mess with my brother,” Dean fairly growled. “Or the little guy, he's cool.”

This time it was a smile Castiel had to repress; Dean had decided Derek was just fine, for no reason other than the fact that Castiel seemed to like him. 

“I am _not_ little!” Derek cried indignantly, and then he brandished the beer bottle in what Castiel suspected was meant to be a threatening manner when one of the men glared at him.

The older man was considerably larger than Dean, but he still eyed the hunter cautiously even as he took a step towards him. “We don't want your kind here,” he muttered, spitting out the word 'kind' like it was a disease. He tilted his head towards Castiel. “Saw you touchin' him, can't deny it.”

“Not gonna,” Dean said lightly. 

Castiel had little patience for the games humans seemed to play before they got around to any real action, so the angel stepped forward and reached out for Derek. The young man let Castiel pull him closer, still gripping the beer bottle tightly. 

“Your fears and hostility are unfounded,” Castiel said quietly as the older man turned on him. “There is no sin in taking pleasure in any gender, or lack thereof, so long as it is consensual. You have no cause to be harassing us.”

Castiel never gave the man a chance to respond. He tugged Derek's hand until it was pressed against his arm, then took a hold of both Sam and Dean and flew them back to their motel.

The angel felt it the moment his ability to fly left him.

He landed hard as a jarring wrench tore at his body and grace, sending all three of his passengers tumbling onto the asphalt. Castiel could still feel his wings, warm and familiar, but it was as if they had become detached from his grace, cut off in such a manner that they were unable to draw on the power they required for flight. 

Castiel had felt many things since taking a human body, and many more since it had become his own...but he had never before experienced shock. It numbed him, not just his body but his very being, the soul of him sheltered deep within his weakening grace. He felt his legs give out, felt the strong arms that caught him and pulled him back against an equally strong chest. Dean, he thought distantly, but he was unable to form the word on his tongue.

The hunter shook him, once, calling his name with a sharpness meant to hide his fear. “Damn it!” An arm swept under his legs, and a second later Castiel felt his body leave the ground. He knew he wasn't light, but Dean lifted him up and tucked him against his chest like he was nothing. “Sam, get the door!”

The angel was aware, vaguely, of continued words, and movement, and eventually the softness of a mattress but never a pillow, because his head was lowered onto Dean's knees and left there while broad hands kneaded at his shoulders, rough, graveled words falling harshly from the hunter's lips as he tried to coax Castiel back to them. Harsh, Castiel thought distantly, but wonderful for it, because he knew that it was worry and fear for him there, under the anger.

It took some time and a great deal of effort, but finally Castiel's lingering grace and strength won over the body's reaction, and he was able to tilt his head against Dean's legs and blink up at him. 

“Damn,” Dean breathed. One hand slapped the side of Castiel's shoulder hard, and the angel could feel the concern radiating from the touch as though Dean was trying to pour it into him. “You scared the crap out of me, man! What happened?”

“I lost my ability to fly,” Castiel replied softly. There was something odd happening behind his eyes, something hot and prickling that he'd never felt before.

“Shit! You mean...your wings?” 

Castiel shook his head. “No, they are still intact, merely unable to draw the power they require...Dean, something is wrong with my eyes.”

The angel sat up, one hand rising to his cheeks as his vision blurred. Fear made his heart beat faster; was he losing his sight along with his ability to fly? “Dean!”

The fuzzy outline of Dean's form looked away, suddenly uncomfortable. “It's okay, Cas, nothing's wrong, you're just...you're crying.”

Something hot and wet splashed across the fingers Castiel had pressed under his left eye. He drew them away, saw the glitter of tears against the tips. His body, he realized, was attempting to react to the devastation he felt inside. 

Dean remained where he was, partially turned away, wildly uncomfortable with the fact that Castiel had broken down enough to cry...but he wasn't leaving. Castiel could feel how badly the hunter wanted to get up and leave the room, let Sammy handle the situation, but he refused to do it because Castiel was his friend, more than his friend, and the least he could do was stay close. 

If Castiel hadn't loved him before, he definitely did now.

Sam, it seemed, didn't understand. “Damn it, Dean, what's wrong with you?” he muttered. He stood from the other bed – Castiel hadn't even noticed his presence, or Derek's, until the younger hunter spoke – and began to make his way towards Castiel, his softer soul intent on comforting the falling angel.

“I'm still here, aren't I?” Dean muttered through clenched teeth as Sam sat on the edge of the bed and laid a heavy, long arm around Castiel's shoulders. 

“I shouldn't be reacting like this.” Castiel couldn't bring himself to say “crying,” though he wasn't quite sure why. “My wings are still there. I could have lost them completely.”

“Yeah, that's good, look at the silver lining,” Sam encouraged gently. “And no matter what he'd have us think, Dean's cried too, so don't let him get to you.”

“Sammy!”

Castiel chuckled weakly at that; Dean had shown him those memories. They were few and far between, and they had made Castiel hurt so badly that the hell fire licking at his wings had seemed like a distant annoyance in comparison. Still, the laughter bubbled up inside him, not because of the fact itself but because of Dean's reaction to it. He looked outraged, seconds from tackling Sam to the bed and holding him down until he took it all back. 

The angel cried just like his hunter; silently, no sobs or choked breaths, just salty tracks running with quiet determination down his cheeks. Sam's arm remained as a comforting weight around his shoulders, his hand squeezing where it was wrapped around Castiel's arm every so often. Some of the tension eventually bled from Dean as well, and the older hunter slid closer, lifted a hand and put it on the angel's knee. 

“You're okay,” Dean said awkwardly, patting the knee under his hand.

Derek, who had been silent since Castiel collapsed, let out a strange little sigh that had Dean twisting around to direct his most lethal glare at him. “Shut up!”

Derek just laughed and held up his hands in a sign of surrender. 

Reaching up, Castiel brushed his fingers over his face, removing the last of the tears. He was beginning to wonder now why Dean did not allow himself to do this more often, or why he was ashamed to be seen like this. It was oddly relieving, like he had somehow released a large portion of his grief with the simple act. It was still there, wrapped around his heart in a strangely physical-feeling grip, but it was...manageable. 

“You okay now?” Sam asked quietly, and when Castiel gave a single nod he removed his arm and returned to the other bed. He was giving Dean the space to move in, he realized, and he almost smiled again at Sam's perceptiveness. How long had he known? He would have to ask him later.

“I'm sorry I made you uncomfortable, Dean,” Castiel said quietly, touching his fingertips to the hand still resting on his leg in apology. 

Dean shrugged, cracking a deceptively easy grin to hide his remaining discomfort. “You just lost your flight, man. Don't worry about it.”

Both men were so caught up in each other that when Sam suddenly announced,“I'm gonna get another room,” it made them both jump. Frowning, Dean twisted around to direct a curious stare in his little brother's direction. “What? Why?”

Sam waved a hand towards the still silent Derek. “We have a guest, jerk. Who's now stuck here, if Cas can't fly. I'll just room with him, you guys keep each other company.”

Derek's whole being lit up, just like it had when Castiel had asked him to join him, and Sam immediately whirled around, directing a stern expression towards the young man. “And you! If Castiel trusts you than I do too, but I swear if I wake up and you're doing anything pervy I will throw you out of the room.”

Derek grinned, a huge, too-innocent expression. “Dude, I'm not a perv! Also? _Hell yes,_ I get to room with Sam!”

Dean chuckled, and Sam's gaze honed in on him with frightening accuracy. “You sent him over?”

“Oh come on, bitch, you know you go for a type, not a body,” Dean said defensively, or what would have been defensively if it hadn't been for the shit-eating grin on his face.

Sam slid a hand over his eyes, groaning in defeat before turning back to Derek. “Sorry about my brother.”

“Nah, he's cool.” Derek stood up from the bed, his expression suddenly serious. “And dude, really, I'm not a perv, I would totally never try to go for someone who didn't want it. But that doesn't mean we can't be friends, since I'm stuck here anyway!”

Castiel watched as Dean frowned, his discomfort level rising abruptly. “Okay, your attitude is just way too bright and healthy, I'm officially uncomfortable.”

A wave of amusement from Sam had Castiel wondering exactly what was so funny about that. He watched as the younger hunter reached out and slapped Derek heartily on the shoulder. “Between you and Cas, you've managed to make Dean uncomfortable twice in like an hour. Come on, let's go.”

“Bitch!” Dean yelled as they walked out the door, but Sam didn't so much as twitch in his direction as he closed the door.

“Why do you do that?” Castiel asked curiously.

“Do what?”

“Insult each other?”

Dean shrugged. “It's a routine, kinda. We've been doing it since we were kids. It's...” the hunter's hands flapped helplessly in the air as he attempted to accurately explain the interaction to the angel. “It's a game, not really an insult. It's comfortable, lets us know everything's cool between us.”

It made Dean happy. Castiel nodded once, understanding that at least. “I don't think I could do that.”

Dean laughed and slapped Castiel on the back. “It's okay, you don't have to. And no pet names, either, while we're on the subject. I swear if you start calling me baby or something I will kick your ass, angel or no.”

Castiel frowned, his confusion getting the best of him again. “You are not a baby.”

“Damn straight.” Dean nodded, but his lips were quivering and his eyes were alight with amusement. “You wanna watch some TV?”

All Castiel wanted was to start putting what he had learned to good use, but he sensed Dean was still tense from Castiel's breakdown, and the angel thought the distraction might be good for both of them. Anything to make the grief at least slide into the background. “Alright.”

Dean picked up the remote and slid to the end of the bed, feet on the floor, elbows balanced against his knees. Castiel mirrored his posture, only he folded his hands in his lap instead, and watched as his hunter flicked mindlessly through channels. He stopped briefly on a news station, watching a young woman talk about a tornado that had ripped through Oklahoma, before finally settling on a show that appeared to tell the story of a hospital and it's staff. 

Or at least, that was what Castiel thought, until two of the characters began to kiss like their lives depended on it.

“What is this?” 

Dean flashed a grin. “Dr. Sexy, MD. Sort of my guilty pleasure. Sam would rag on me so hard if he knew.”

“Why?”

Dean shrugged. “Because it's shallow and badly written, or whatever he'd say. But the cast is hot.” He chuckled. “It's basically softcore porn. You know, not as graphic as a normal porn movie.”

Castiel turned to look at Dean, because he'd rather watch his hunter than fake people on a screen anyway. “Why are you letting me see it?”

Dean shrugged again and very pointedly did not look at his angel. “Because you won't tell anyone.”

_Because you trust me,_ Castiel thought with a smile. 

While Castiel didn't particularly care for what was happening on the screen, the chattering in the background and the calm, comfortable atmosphere that had developed between himself and Dean was palliative. It eased back the grief, let him see what he still had – his wings, Dean's companionship – the “silver lining” as Sam had called it. Part of Castiel had been afraid that Dean might reject their sexual encounter later, but he seemed completely at ease instead. He was absorbed in the show, remote held loosely in his fist, body leaning ever so slightly towards the angel. 

Slowly, Castiel brought up his hand and trailed the pads of his fingers over the back of Dean's hand, the one closest to him that was not holding the remote. Though the hunter didn't look away from the screen his hand curled upwards into the touch, and he leaned incrementally closer to Castiel. Encouraged, the angel ran his fingers up Dean's arm, touching through coat and t-shirt, wishing it was bare skin beneath his hand. 

When Castiel reached back and began to tug off Dean's coat, the hunter clicked off the TV, tossed the remote away and pulled his arms back, letting the angel easily slip the garment off. 

“Why did you turn it off?” Castiel asked quietly as he dropped the coat to the floor. Dean was wearing nothing beneath it but a black t-shirt, so Castiel began to run his palm over the strong, muscled arm bared to his sight. The flesh was warm and rough, peppered with new scars Dean had earned since Castiel put him back together. The angel traced one, the raised, white tissue standing out sharply against the pad of his thumb.

“Something a lot more interesting started happening,” Dean answered with a quiet chuckle. He made no move to touch Castiel, simply sat there and let the angel run his hand up and down lazily for a moment before he reached for the hem of the t-shirt. He wanted it off, he thought heatedly. He wanted it off _now_.

Once again Dean moved to accommodate him, lifting his arms and letting Castiel pull the shirt up and off before dropping it to the floor to join the coat. Then he laid his hands back on his knees and just let the angel touch him, watching through eyes half lidded with a lazy kind of growing lust. Suddenly all Castiel wanted was to pull Dean to him and kiss him, _devour_ him, and he had to forcibly remind himself that this time was about Dean. The thought grounded him while still sending lust coursing through his blood.

“Lie back,” Castiel requested, and Dean immediately dropped backwards, scooting up until he was stretched out across the cheap motel blanket. He folded his arms behind his head and grinned cheekily at Castiel. 

The angel didn't know where to start. Last time there had been a frantic element to this act, a need to feel it all, everything at once, but this time it was a slow, lazy kind of burn swirling pleasantly through him, and he could see Dean was having the same reaction. There was no rush, he told himself as he lifted his hand and laid it flat against the hunter's chest. None at all.

Dean's arms were quivering, and Castiel didn't notice until he was leaning over him, eyes raking the length of him with quiet hunger. He was holding himself back from touching, Castiel realized, and he wondered how Dean _knew_ what the angel was doing. 

“Dean.” The word was soft, almost inaudible. Castiel lifted his hands and laid them along Dean's wrists where they were peeking out from behind his head, ran them slowly along the undersides of his arms and watched as Dean's breath hitched and his body shuddered. He remembered Derek instructing him to talk, and while generally his attempts at seriousness seemed to amuse the hunter to no end, he remembered how often Dean had laughed during their last encounter, how oddly exciting it had been, so perhaps that wasn't such a bad thing. 

The problem, Castiel thought – he brought his hands flat against Dean's chest again, rubbing the palms in small, gentle circles over his pectorals – was that Castiel didn't know what to say. Telling Dean he was beautiful seemed ridiculous; not only did the hunter _know_ that, but Castiel's attraction to his body was based on his love of the soul. Perhaps he should tell him his soul was beautiful? That, it seemed, he did not know.

“Cas...” Dean arched up into Castiel's palms, his eyelids fluttering as his lips opened around a soft sigh. “Damn, that feels great.”

Castiel couldn't help a small, satisfied smile. He pressed a little harder when he felt the nipples stiffen beneath his palms, and Dean let out a quiet moan and arched up again. The hunter's hips stuttered upwards, and when Castiel glanced down he saw Dean's erection straining against the denim. His own cock was already painfully hard, but he ignored it – with no small amount of effort – and continued to focus on his hunter. 

Now that he'd established one area that seemed to bring Dean great pleasure, Castiel continued downwards, watching Dean carefully for more reactions. As he traced the hunter's abs he rolled words around in his mind, searching for the right ones. There were three in particular he longed to say, but Dean wasn't ready for them yet. 

Dean let out a sudden, chuckling gasp, and his stomach muscles twitched beneath Castiel's fingers. “Tickles,” he said, a little breathless, and Castiel cocked his head curiously. Was that good? He brushed lightly across Dean's stomach again, and watched with fascination as Dean tried to bend in on himself. The sound he released was so dangerously close to a giggle that it caused the strangest sensation in Castiel, an urge to see how far he could go. Playful, he realized with a small, surprised smile. He felt playful.

Using both hands, Castiel began to brush his fingers rapidly in light touches across Dean's stomach. He watched with a bizarre sort of happiness as Dean completely lost control over himself, chuckles and breathless gasps choking the sounds of Castiel's name bitten off in short pleas as he tried to squirm away from Castiel's fingers. 

“C-cas, come on, man!” Dean gasped, pushing at the angel's hands with hardly any strength at all. 

Castiel relented, watching as Dean collapsed back onto the mattress, breathing hard and still chuckling quietly. “Evil, Cas, that was evil,” Dean muttered. “I'm gonna have to get you for that later.” He opened his eyes and met Castiel's dead on, green gaze sharp with mischief and promise, and Castiel felt that promise like a punch, so forceful he shuddered. Whatever Dean did to him later, Castiel knew he was going to enjoy it.

As a kind of apology, Castiel reached up and massaged Dean's pectorals with his palms again, watching as the mischief slipped from his expression to be replaced by bliss as he once again arched into the angel's hands. Then he slid them downwards until he was undoing the button and zipper on Dean's jeans. Last time he'd been so eager to feel Dean's skin against his own that he'd ripped them off of him, but this time he was unhurried, inching jeans and boxers down so that the flesh was slowly revealed to him, down, down, until they caught on the hunter's boots. Dean was starting to breath heavily again, green gaze locked on Castiel as the angel untied and gently tugged off each boot, then his socks, and finally pulled the jeans and boxers off completely, dropping them unceremoniously to the floor. 

Dean's toes wiggled freely in the air, and the grin he tossed Castiel's way suggested he was trying to be silly, but all it did was give Castiel an odd idea. Derek had mentioned that people's sensitivities could be in unusual places...

Castiel reached up, cupped his fingers over the top curve of Dean's left foot before pressing his thumbs into the arch, stroking them firmly upwards. Dean let out a deep, low groan, his eyes flaring bright with surprise. Encouraged, Castiel leaned forward, mouthing along the protruding bone of Dean's ankle as he continued to rub his thumbs firmly in the arch. He slowly worked his way up, pressing light kisses to Dean's shins, his knees, trailing up the insides of his thighs until they fell apart to let him crawl between them. 

"That's kinda hot,” Dean murmured suddenly.

Castiel laid his cheek against Dean's hip, tilting his head back so he could gaze up the flat expanse of his stomach and chest to the green eyes watching him, half lidded and warm with intensity. “What is?”

“You, fully dressed, while I'm completely naked.” Dean reached down and raked a hand through Castiel's already messy hair, swirling it around with his fingertips. “This somethin' Derek told you to do?”

Castiel nodded, enjoying the soft skin of Dean's hip as it rubbed against his cheek. “He told me to watch, that I would know when I found the places you enjoy. Dean...” Castiel trailed his hand along the opposite hip, his eyes raking over the full, swollen length of Dean's arousal. “Dean, you are beautiful.”

Dean chuckled. “You know, Cas, I know I'm not exactly small or anything, but I don't think that's an organ I'd label with that particular word.”

Castiel actually rolled his eyes, a habit he could blame entirely on Dean's influence. “No, Dean, I mean you. Your soul. Your _spirit._ Your body is beautiful only because _you_ are, inside.”

Castiel wasn't sure how these words would be met; he knew Dean was uncomfortable with too much emotion. The hand in his hair continued to swirl lazily, and when the angel risked a glance upwards he saw a small smile on Dean's face. “Quit bein' girly,” Dean muttered, but the words were soft and fond, and Castiel knew he had said the right thing. 

Castiel smiled, just a quick flash, and then returned to the task at hand. He let his fingers reach between Dean's legs, brushed them too-light against balls already drawn up tight against his body. Dean gasped, his cock twitching and his fingers tightening in Castiel's hair, but he didn't try to tug the angel closer. He seemed to like Castiel just where he was, so the angel rubbed his cheek against his hunter's hip again, his fingers dancing teasingly up the hard shaft so close to his mouth...

…and then he was unable to resist any longer. He leaned forward, remembering the last time he'd done this. It had been just as frantic as everything else he'd tried, but he remembered liking the feel of it in his mouth, the slick, hard heat against his tongue. This time, Castiel pressed his lips to the base, kissing his way along one side of the shaft. Dean let out a soft sound that was half moan, half sigh. His grip in the angel's hair tightened, and this time he did tug, lightly, suggestively, attempting to silently guide Castiel's head higher. With a quiet chuckle, the angel let Dean pull him up until he could wrap his lips around the head of the hunter's cock. Precome slicked across his tongue as he swirled it around the head, dipping briefly into the slit before sliding down. The hard heat slid smoothly over his tongue, and this time Castiel resolved to do it. He would control his body's reactions. 

“'S nice, Cas,” Dean murmured. His fingers stroked carefully now, encouragingly. “Last time was good too, I mean, but slow can be good.”

Cas hummed in agreement; he knew he'd gone too fast, too messily, during their last encounter, and he was determined to make up for it – 

Dean gasped, his fingers tightening and his back arching as he thrust more deeply into Castiel's mouth. Startled, the angel pulled back slightly, wondering what exactly he'd done to cause that reaction. Was it...he hummed again, and when Dean reacted the same way Castiel felt himself trying to smile around the hunter's cock. 

Slowly, Castiel took in more of Dean, until he could feel the head brushing against the back of his throat. He breathed deeply through his nose, calming his body's nervous reaction, and then pressed on, taking him in, taking him _deep_ , forcing himself to relax and accept it. Dean let out a choked cry and tugged, trying to pull him away.

“Cas, oh _fuck_ , you don't have to do that...”

Ignoring him, Castiel kept pressing down, resisting his body's gag reflex until his nose was pressed into dark, curly hair. Then he hummed again, a low moan around the thickness in his throat, and Dean let out a shout, his hips bucking in an attempt to drive himself even further into his angel. Castiel drew himself up, breathing in through his nose before diving down again, over and over, humming on every dive until he had Dean thrashing helplessly beneath him. The sounds pouring from his throat were so much nonsense that he was unable to warn Cas beyond another, sharp tug to his hair before he came, his body tensing, thighs shaking beneath Castiel's hands. The angel couldn't stop it this time; his throat spasmed and closed around the sudden, added intrusion, so he pulled back enough to let his body breathe as he continued to suckle gently, swallowing everything the hunter had to offer until Dean began to squirm, muttering something about being oversensitive.

“I can't believe you just did that,” Dean breathed as Castiel slid up to lie beside him, resting his head against Dean's bare shoulder. “That takes _practice,_ man, and you just went and...” the words trailed away as lips pressed into the angel's hair, and then suddenly Dean was up on his knees in an explosion of motion, pulling Castiel up with him. The angel barely had time to register the sudden movement before his coat and shirt were gone, flung to some unknown location across the room. His tie slid down to the bedspread, and then Castiel found himself flat on his back again as Dean yanked off the rest of his clothing. 

“Don't move,” Dean growled as he stood, flashing a grin that softened the commanding tone. He flicked the tiny ring pierced through Castiel's foreskin once, and the angel wondered at the fact that he'd never been so _aware_ of it until Dean brought it to his attention. Then the hunter was off the bed, practically flinging himself across the room to his duffel. When he returned he was holding a small, orange bottle with the word Trojan printed across it's front. Castiel sat up, reaching for it curiously when it was held out to him.

“It's lube,” Dean said with a shrug in answer to Castiel's questioning gaze. “But it's supposed to be this really good stuff, like it heats up and tingles, I guess.”

Intrigued, Castiel popped open the cap and poured a little onto his fingers. It was warm, but he didn't feel anything 'tingling'. Perhaps that was only when it was applied to sensitive areas? 

The angel felt Dean shifting, and when he looked up he found the hunter stretched out across the blankets, watching him with lazy hunger. His cock was still soft, but when Castiel shifted to kneel between Dean's legs it gave a valiant twitch. The angel reached up, ran a single, slicked finger across the organ, and Dean's eyes flew suddenly wide as a gasp wrenched it's way from his chest.

“Whoa!” The hunter's hips bucked up into Castiel's hand. “It definitely tingles!”

Castiel felt an ache begin to build, deep inside, but he ignored it for now. This was for Dean, he reminded himself, and there would be time for him to experience the sensation of having Dean inside him later. 

Adding more lube to his fingers, Castiel set the bottle aside and reached down. Dean bent his legs up like he had during their last encounter, though the angel thought he looked far more comfortable about it this time. He let out another, startled gasp when Castiel rubbed the lube over and around his hole, circling until he felt Dean relax before sliding the first finger easily inside.

“Shit!” Dean's hands curled into fists, handfuls of sheet bunching around his fingers. Startled, Castiel began to remove his finger, until Dean's muscles clamped down around it in a desperate attempt to hold him in. 

“Don't you dare!” Dean snarled. “Cas, man, you gotta try this...it definitely tingles.”

“Next time?” Castiel hadn't meant for it to come out like a question, as though he were insecure in his assumption that it would happen again. 

Carefully, the hunter sat partially upright, reaching out with one hand to pull Castiel forward into a messy, open mouthed kiss. By the time he pulled away they were both gasping, and Dean slipped a free hand down to cup the round, firm muscle of Castiel's ass, one finger slipping between the cheeks to just barely brush against his entrance.

“Next time,” Dean growled quietly. “I'm going to fuck you so hard you'll feel me there for weeks.”

The angel felt as though he'd been punched in the stomach, arousal hit him so hard. A sharp cry flew from his lips and he lunged forward, gripping the back of Dean's head with his free hand as he kissed him frantically, his other hand working in a second finger. Dean was hot and tight around his fingers, but more relaxed than he had been the first time, letting Castiel's small thrusts slide easily in and out, and the new lube was so slick that even a third finger was met with little resistance.

Dean wrenched himself away suddenly, falling back against the pillows with a gasp, and when his eyes met Castiel's they were deadly serious. “No mojo?”

“No mojo,” Castiel assured him. He thrust his fingers in as far as he could, reaching for that spot that would make Dean see stars, but only just brushing it like Derek had told him. The hunter groaned and ground down against Castiel's hand, his eyes glazing with pleasure but refusing to look away.

“You sure?” Dean gasped, and Castiel felt laughter bubble up inside, spilling happily from his lips because he knew then that he'd succeeded. “Hey.” Dean reached up, tapped a finger against the angel's lips. “You laughed.”

Castiel kissed Dean's finger, then drove his own into the hunter's prostate again. Dean's hand fell away and he began to grind down again, small, choked sounds emitting from his throat as he tried to get even more of the angel inside him.

“Dean...” Castiel stopped, holding his fingers deep inside, and then carefully, slowly, slipped a fourth in. Dean's eyes went wide, and his hands reached up to grip both of Castiel's arms so tightly that, in his wavering strength, Castiel could feel bruises setting in.

“Dean? Am I hurting you?”

Dean sucked in a deep breath, and when he let it out Castiel felt him relax incrementally around his hand. “A little, but don't stop. It's good, too.”

The second Dean confessed to feeling pain Castiel wanted to stop, but he didn't. Instead he thrust slowly, watching as nearly half his hand disappeared inside Dean, wondering if he could take this much, too. He remembered his experiments from the field, remembered how the pain had turned into a new kind of pleasure, and assured himself that was what Dean meant when he said it was good, too. 

“Dean...” Castiel pushed just a little further, until his thumb was pressed against Dean's perineum. Dean groaned from deep in his chest, hands loosening and beginning to run encouragingly along Castiel's arms. “Dean, this is...” Castiel just stared, unable to articulate exactly what it was beyond disturbingly arousing, and he suspected Dean could see that in his wide gaze. 

“Jesus, Cas, just...now!” Castiel wanted to tell Dean not to blaspheme, but it was more a habit than anything else, and listening to Dean incoherently demand for Castiel to fuck him was more than the angel could take. He let his hand slip slowly free, and he was about to settle over Dean when he remembered the tie lying on the bedding beside them. It took a great deal of effort, but he sat up and reached for it, and Dean, in confusion and curiosity, sat up after him.

“Dean?” Castiel held the tie out like an offering, staring into Dean's eyes so that the hunter could be sure of his sincerity. “Would you like to restrain me?”

The wave of lust and awe that crashed through Dean was so powerful that Castiel felt it like it was his own. “Cas, that's...holy _shit_ , that is just...” then Dean stopped, and Castiel felt a flicker of doubt. “But we both know you can break that thing, easy.” He said it jokingly, flashing a grin, but Castiel felt the disappointment. He felt like it was a cheap offer, something Castiel could break away from if he wanted to.

“No, Dean. I can't.” Castiel lifted his other hand and grasped the opposite end of the tie, infusing it with his rapidly fading power. Then he pulled, as hard as he could, and Dean's eyes flew wide when the tie didn't give an inch.

“ _Cas_...” Dean reached out and almost reverently took the tie. “Is this some angel submission kink?” he asked, his quip weak with lust, and the hunter's desire combined with his own made Castiel lean forward, pressing his forehead to his hunter's. 

“No, Dean. This,” Castiel laid his hand over the one Dean had wrapped around the tie, “is because I trust you, absolutely, and I wish for you to know that.”

Then he held his hands up, wrists pressed together, and Dean let out a choked cry as he gently wrapped the tie around them, making a knot that left Castiel firmly but comfortably bound. The angel laid back, lifting his arms above his head, and Dean secured what was left of the tie to the headboard. He somehow seemed to sense it when Castiel infused that, too, with his power, because he leaned down and laid a kiss on Castiel that left the angel utterly breathless. 

Dean leaned back, just enough to make that eye contact Castiel craved as he ran the back of his hand gently down Castiel's face. It was interesting, the angel thought, how open Dean was during sex, but never outside of it.

“Did I prepare you enough?” Castiel asked as Dean threw one leg over Castiel's waist. Last time he'd used his powers, assuring himself that he wouldn't really hurt Dean, but this had been about the ability _not_ to use them, and now, as the moment neared, he was terrified.

Dean, on the other hand, seemed anything but. He chuckled and leaned down to give Cas a quick kiss. “Cas, man, if you'd prepped me any better I could take two of you. Relax.”

The hunter gave the angel no time to respond; he reached back, gripped the base of Castiel's cock to keep it steady and sank down, taking the entire length in one smooth motion. Castiel let out a shout, his arms straining against his bonds and his head pressing back against the pillow as the tight, nearly overwhelming heat enveloped him, along with a strange, tingling sensation he could only assume came from the lubrication. The angel could feel the tug of the piercing as it dragged against Dean's inner walls, almost painful, yet unbelievably exciting all the same. He felt Dean's hands go to his shoulders as he braced himself, and when the angel opened his eyes he saw Dean partially leaned over him, his head flung back, his eyes closed and his mouth open around a quiet moan. The expression was anything but pained, and Castiel finally felt himself begin to relax because of it.

Dean opened his eyes suddenly, looking straight down to meet Castiel's. They were nearly black, and seeing such blatant evidence of Dean's arousal made Castiel's cock twitch violently inside soft, tight heat. “Damn, you look good like that,” Dean growled. He shifted just a little, barely rolling his hips, kneading his hands down on Castiel's shoulders at the same time. The sound that tore from Castiel's throat was nearly inhuman, and he strained upwards, trying to buck his hips into the perfection that was Dean, but the hunter grinned and locked himself around Castiel, pushing hard until the angel ceased his movements. “Shit, Cas, I wish I could tell you how gorgeous you look right now.”

“Dean,” Castiel panted, trying to move and once again failing. It worried him a little, how easily Dean was holding him down. Was he losing strength so quickly? Still, a part of him was strangely aroused by the fact that Dean could hold him still, manipulate him as he chose. 

Apparently taking pity on him, Dean rose up so that Castiel's cock nearly slipped from him, leaving only the head inside, before he slammed down again, and Castiel couldn't contain the shout that was ripped from his chest as the action sent bolts of pleasure racing under his skin. 

“Is it good, Dean?” Castiel gasped when he'd remembered how to speak. 

Dean ground his hips, once, twice, and then his eyes suddenly rolled back in his head and he let out a long, low groan. _Prostate_ , Castiel thought, and he resolved to hit that spot as often as he could. “Yeah, Cas. Better than good.”

“Don't say that just because I want to hear it,” Castiel growled, suddenly terrified that this man who sacrificed everything he was for those he loved would lie just to make Castiel happy. 

Dean met his eyes again, green gaze clouded with pleasure but burning fiercely all the same. “Do I look like I'm lyin'?”

No, no he didn't, and Castiel could feel the answer down to his grace. The last of the tension fled his body, letting Castiel relax back against the pillows. He smiled up at Dean, and when his hunter grinned back, Castiel felt like he could fly again.

Rational thought became nearly impossible after that. Dean set up a rhythm, a slow, steady rise and fall, all the while kneading Castiel's shoulders in a way that felt almost as amazing as the soft heat surrounding his cock. Now that he was allowed, Castiel bucked his hips every time Dean lowered himself, trying his best to hit the hunter's prostate as often as possible. He could always tell when he had; Dean's eyes would roll, and a deep groan would swell from his chest while his hands would lose their rhythm. Could he make Dean come just by stimulating his prostate? The thought was so intriguing that he resolved to try it at some point, and then Dean rolled his hips in an odd little figure-eight motion and Castiel lost the ability to think completely. 

Dean removed one hand from Castiel's shoulder and reached down to stroke himself in frantic, quick movements that lacked any rhythm. Castiel watched for a moment, wishing desperately that it was his own hand bringing Dean to climax while at the same time almost painfully aroused by the fact that he was utterly at Dean's mercy. The hunter had lost rhythm with his hips as well, was hardly pulling off at all, just small, quick jerks as Castiel's own hips stuttered frantically upwards. The angel could feel his climax starting, a delicious building of pressure that started deep in his belly and began to seep outwards, and he could see it developing in Dean as well. The hunter was panting hard, his hand flying so quickly over his dick it was nearly a blur. 

“Close, Cas.” Dean leaned down, pressing his forehead against his angel's. “You close?”

“Yes,” Castiel whispered. He titled his head and sealed his lips to the hunter's, quick little darts of his tongue matching the non-rhythm of Dean's hips. 

Castiel came first, his body still too new to the stimulation to outlast Dean. He let out a strangled cry into Dean's mouth as his hips froze, his body shaking as his climax rocked through him, filling Dean with sticky warmth. He collapsed, boneless, into the mattress as Dean continued to ride him, throwing his head back as he stroked himself twice more and came, thick spunk spattering hotly against Castiel's stomach. 

The hunter fell forward, head resting in the crook of Castiel's shoulder and neck, his heart racing, pounding to meet the rhythm of the angel's own rapidly beating heart. Dean made no move to unbind his arms, and Castiel said nothing, perfectly content to stay this way until Dean chose to move.

“You okay, Cas?” Dean murmured suddenly.

Castiel frowned, twisting his head in an effort to see Dean. It seemed strange that it was Dean asking _him_ if he was alright, when it seemed as though it should be the other way around. “I'm much more than okay, Dean,” Castiel replied solemnly. “Why do you ask?”

Dean sat up. He slipped carefully off of Castiel – the angel was unable to contain a groan of disappointment as his cock slipped free of that tight heat – and began to undo the tie, letting it fall away so the angel could lower his arms and sit up. The moment he had Dean pulled him in close, tucking Castiel's head under his chin, wrapping around him as though the angel was the fragile one. “I'd have been...really uncomfortable, if it was me.” 

Castiel knew he meant afraid, and suddenly it made more sense, this odd concern. He thought maybe he shouldn't have let Castiel do it, that he'd gone too far. 

“I enjoyed that immensely, Dean,” Castiel assured him. 

Dean didn't answer, but Castiel felt fingers slide into his hair, swirling and playing with the affection Dean couldn't bring himself to say out loud. 

“Maybe...” Dean stopped, cleared his throat. “Maybe some time you can, you know. Do that. To me.”

The words brought another understanding of a common human sensation to Castiel; he could have sworn his heart stopped, and for a moment he couldn't breathe. When Castiel tipped his head back to see his hunter there was a grin on his face, one meant to hide the fear in his eyes, but there was determination there as well, and Castiel knew Dean wanted his angel to know that he trusted him just as much. 

“When you're comfortable with it,” Castiel agreed, and he saw relief crash through Dean like a wave. 

It was a very good thing, Castiel thought as they shifted until they were lying beneath the sheets, that he could read his hunter so well. 

...*...

The two were woken the next morning by the sound of someone pounding on their door. The clock read 9:30 a.m., and Castiel knew that was an unusually late hour for Dean to sleep. 

“Go away, Sammy!” Dean yelled without opening his eyes, and when Castiel made a move to rise he yanked the angel in closer instead.

“I have pancakes!” came the reply, and Dean was up and in his clothes in a matter of seconds. 

Both Sam and Derek were on the other side of the door, loaded down with Styrofoam containers and steaming cups of coffee, most of which were nearly spilled onto the floor when Derek realized that Castiel was still naked. The sheet was pulled up to his chest, something Dean had done hastily before opening the door, but apparently just the knowledge was enough for Derek to turn a bright red color and nearly drop the coffee.

Sam, on the other hand, cast Castiel an amused glance before looking at Dean and saying, “I suppose I should thank you that he's covered up at all?”

Dean actually looked disappointed, though the expression quickly faded when he flipped open the lid of the container that held his pancakes. “Damn it, you knew.”

Sam rolled his eyes. He took the coffees from a still stunned Derek and set them down on the table. “Come on, Dean, how could I not know?”

Dean poured syrup over his breakfast, and then threw the empty – but still sticky – container at his little brother. Sam batted it out of the air with one hand and retaliated by throwing a packet of butter at Dean.

“Cas, one of these is yours.” Sam held up a cup of the coffee. “If you want it. I bought you some breakfast, too, but you don't have to eat it if you don't want it.”

Oddly enough, Castiel did want it. He threw back the sheet, uncaring of his nudity, and almost chuckled when the action was met with three squawks of “Cas!” He dressed like a normal human would, reserving what little strength he sensed he had left, before joining the others at the table. 

“So Sam and I were talking this morning,” Derek announced suddenly. He was still bright red, and he refused to look at Castiel directly. “And if you're okay with it, Dean, I think I'm going to stick around for a while.”

“Dude, no.” Dean set his fork down and shook his head sharply. “You don't want to stick with us.”

“Sam already explained everything, about Lucifer and all that, and I want to help,” Derek replied stubbornly. “I can hunt, it's not like I don't know the ropes, you know? And I'm awesome at research, just ask Sam.”

Dean glanced doubtfully at his little brother, who nodded reluctantly. “He found three cases in an hour.”

Castiel watched as Dean thought it over. He picked up his fork again and continued to work through his pancakes, until finally he shook his head and shrugged. “Whatever. It's your life.”

After that things were, for the most part, quiet. Castiel discovered he wasn't overly fond of pancakes, but he loved eggs and bacon, and he decided then and there that lattes were one of humanity's greatest inventions. Dean rolled his eyes when Castiel announced his fondness for the coffee, but Sam grinned hugely, like he'd just gained an ally in some ongoing battle. 

They were preparing to leave when something made Castiel pause. He stood in the doorway, hand still wrapped around the knob of the door, head cocked as he listened. It came again, a quiet tone, like a low hum uttered with multiple voices. High pitch, low pitch, then again in the same manner but with different notes. It happened once more, and then nothing. 

“Cas!”

The angel looked smoothly to Dean, as though he hadn't been distracted at all. “Yes?”

“You coming?” Dean sounded partially amused, but also somewhat concerned. “Somethin' wrong?”

“I heard something.” Castiel closed the door, paused once more, but the tone did not sound again. “You didn't hear it?”

Dean shook his head. “Nope. Was it Angel Radio?”

“Possibly,” Castiel answered as he climbed into the back seat with Derek. _Unlikely,_ he finished silently, but since he had no other explanation available, he left it alone. 

“Okay then.” Dean started up the car. “Next stop?”

“Iowa,” Sam replied immediately. “Looks like we have a coven.”

“Great,” Dean muttered as he pulled out of the parking lot. “Witches. I hate witches.”

The tone came again as they left the hotel behind, but this time it wasn't Castiel who heard it. 

...*...  


END  


To be continued in "Unexpected Truths."  


**Author's Note:**

> Just a note about the reference to Garth: I don't think Garth had any knowledge of the Winchesters in the s5 timeline, so I didn't have Derek know Dean even by rumor. Also, I hope people like him, because he decided to stick around. X_X.


End file.
